


The Cygnet Conversation

by Ghostwriter98



Series: Pond Protectors [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Also NOT by Hannibal or Will, Baby swan Abigail, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Domestic violence in a pair bond, Implied Cygneticide (killing of baby swans), Kid Fic, M/M, Murder Family, NOT by Hannibal or Will, Other, Protective Hannibal, Swan Hannibal, Swan Will, What can I say Garret is one mean swan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostwriter98/pseuds/Ghostwriter98
Summary: Swan Hannibal steals a cygnet egg to continue his and his mate’s legacy as pond protectors. Will, surprisingly, still has enough morality left to have a few reservations.





	1. An Egg is Stolen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stephaniesaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stephaniesaurus/gifts).



> Swan Hannibal and Swan Will are back! Who saw that one coming because I sure didn't? This was completely unplanned until inspiration came thanks to Stephaniesaurus who told me some interesting black swan facts and gave me the idea of baby cygnet Abigail.  
> This takes place somewhere between the nine years Will and Hannibal spend on their pond at the end of Blood in the Water. I'm thinking around the five year mark.  
> Based on the real life exploits of Hannibal The Killer Swan.
> 
> Swan stuff that is mentioned:  
> Cob = male swan  
> Pen = female swan  
> Clutch = eggs laid at a single time  
> Cygnet = baby swan  
> Swans twine necks to show affection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if cygneticide is an actual word or practice swans do. I kind of just mashed cygnet and the word infanticide together.

It’s spring and all-around Will flowers bloom. White daisies are once again unfurling and littering the grass. The yew bushes are full. Their berries red, ripe and bloody tantalize creatures who don’t know of their poisonous nature to take a bite. The sun is shining high in the blue cloudless sky. A mirroring ball of yellow is reflected in the clear waters of Hannibal’s – no, not Hannibal’s pond, it's  _their_ pond now.

Will stifles down the urge to strut around because he’s mated to the most deadly swan Baltimore has ever seen and he has absolutely zero regrets. Everything is (just about) perfect. Will finally has a home after spending his entire life waddling from park to park looking for one. He's near a source of plentiful food with fat fish, tangy underwater vegetation and buzzing insects. Although, the number of swans has significantly dropped as of late so that’s a bit of a bummer. Will isn’t sure if it’s because he and Hannibal have eaten too many of their fellow kind or if it’s because the other swans finally grew a brain and decided to relocate. That might not be a problem for long though given that it’s the season of rebirth. The flowers are opening, the trees are spurting leaves and lust is in the air. That’s right, it’s swan mating season and Will is ready for the food to come rolling in. After some time for said food to mature and grow, of course. Will hasn’t resorted to eating cygnets yet. He still has _some_  morality left.

Hannibal must be excited too, even though his mask-like face scarcely shows it. Will can tell that there's something different in his manner though. A kind of quiet contemplation as he stares out across the pond to the trees and bushes where the few remaining swans like to hide. Will tries not to disturb him too much and goes about his daily patrol of the pond’s perimeter. He finds nothing which isn't unusual and returns to find Hannibal in the same curious state as earlier. Will tries to be quiet, not wanting to disturb his mate as he creeps closer. A twig crunches under his webbed foot and Hannibal’s head twists towards Will lightning fast.

“Ah, sorry,” Will mumbles awkwardly. “It’s all clear, by the way.”

“Good.” Hannibal turns his head back to the the pond. His eyes are glazed and dreamy.

Will waddles up beside him. He glances at Hannibal for permission to intrude on his alone time. When Hannibal nods, Will plops down and scoots a little closer until their feathers are brushing. Hannibal’s been off in his head for days. Will's been lonely and, well, he wants a little attention, okay. It sounds pathetic when he thinks about it but Hannibal has always been so affectionate and present and now he’s just…not. Will scoffs. It’s probably because it’s the “love” season that he’s getting all needy like this.

Hannibal presses closer, warm and dry.

 _When was the last time he went for a dip?_  Will shakes off the rather worrying thought and tries to just enjoy the closeness and the intimacy of the moment.

“Will,” Hannibal trails off as if he's internally debating something. Will’s mind spins into a panic because Hannibal is never hesitant or unsure.

“Never mind.”

“No, no! Please, go on,” Will just about shouts. Hannibal eye's widen, obviously alarmed by his eagerness.  

“Are you ever lonely?”

Will wants to let out a loud honk of laughter at that because  _seriously?_

“Lately, yeah.” Will gives Hannibal the side eye.

“Would you like there to be more of us?”

Will frowns. “What? On the pond?”

“Yes.”

Will’s eyes almost bug out of his head. Is Hannibal suggesting what he thinks he is? They have gone to so much trouble over the years to preserve the pond and keep it a clean well maintained paradise and now Hannibal wants to go and invite the neighbours over. Will envisions Franklyn and his dirt speckled feathers and shudders.

“Who are you and what have you done with my mate?” Will asks with horror.

Hannibal gives Will an odd look. “It’s a simple question. Would you or wouldn’t you like to share this pond with another?”

“Hell no!”

“Not even, with say, a cygnet?”

“A cygnet?” Will squeaks.

“Yes, of our own.”

Will blinks. He pauses, then blinks some more before finally coming to the realization of what Hannibal is asking him. “Are you asking me whether I want to start a family with you?”

Hannibal shakes his head, a fond smile curled around his beak. “We are already a family, Will. I merely mean an extension of our current family.”

“A-a cygnet?” Will stutters.

Oddly enough, the thought has never crossed his mind. Will had known prior to mating him that being with Hannibal would mean a lot of sacrifices. He would forever be feared so friends were out of the question. His diet would have to drastically change and a cygnet…well, that kind of domesticity seemed beyond them. Now that Hannibal has brought up the idea though, Will can’t stop thinking about it. He imagines Hannibal gliding across their pond with a baby swan on his back. The mental image is so adorable Will wants to coo.

“Yes or no?” Hannibal asks. His tone is harsher than usual, more pressing. Will can read between the lines though. Hannibal's nervous. This is obviously something he’s been giving some serious thought to. There's a desperation lurking in there, behind the rough edges and steely eyes. 

Will bushes up against Hannibal’s neck and whispers. “I said I wanted you, didn’t I? You and all you have to give.”

Hannibal’s eyes burn like fire and Will feels the love Hannibal has for him, obsessive and all consuming. It crashes over him like a wave.

Normal swans would be scared, would struggle and fight and probably drown in its intensity but Will's never been a normal swan and he welcomes it, he soaks his feathers and he bathes in it.  

He stares back at Hannibal unflinchingly and his eyes say; _Show me your worst. I want this. I chose you._

And Hannibal. Oh, Hannibal does.

\----:----

 

The second Will wakes, he knows something is different. Number one, he’s sitting in a tightly bound nest of reeds, aquatic vegetation and grass.  _A nest? Since when do we have a nest?_  Number two, they're not alone. Will doesn’t know how he knows this. He just does. Something feels different, a shift in their dynamic, a more open air so another can worm their way in. Will’s head whips left and right. He finally settles on a shrill “Hannibal!”

Hannibal’s head pops up from where it was resting on the edge of the nest. His feathers ruffle and his back arches in a majestic stretch.

“Yes, dear?” Comes the routine response.

“What the actual fuck?!”

Hannibal whistles his disapproval. “Language, Will.”

“What is this?” Will gestures with his wings at the nest that encases the both of them. It’s flawless, of course. Perfect in diameter and roomy and cozy enough for the two of them. The material is the perfect blend of soft and strong, soft enough to be comfortable and strong enough to hold. He knows Hannibal made it because the water of their pond laps inches away and no other swan would dare build a home this close to the two of them.

“A nest,” Hannibal states matter of factly.

Will lets out an aggravated hiss. “I can  _see_  that. How long has this been here?”

“It’s been a project of mine for the past week.”

“A week?” Will splutters, wondering how he hadn't noticed the giant thing. Hannibal must have kept it hidden somehow behind the reeds.

It has been exactly a week since they had what Will labels "The Cygnet Conversation". Hannibal hadn’t broached the topic after the first day they talked about it and so Will had assumed it was something filed away for the future. He should have known nothing is ever that simple with Hannibal.

 _Week_  repeats in Will’s mind and the mute swan scoffs. It usually takes two weeks for a pair of swans to build a fairly decent nest but of course because Hannibal has to be superior to every other swan in every other way, he pushed himself to have it done in one. Will imagines Hannibal snapping up weeds with his beak and dragging green vegetation from the deep recesses of the pond. Hannibal, who is so careful with everything near or in his beloved pond - not wanting to leave too deep impressions in the soil on the bank, wanting to leave the reeds undisturbed, the aquatic vegetation balanced and plentiful - now mercilessly working with his mind honed to the sole purpose of this nest’s creation. It's an entertaining image. Almost enough to calm Will down. _Almost_.

“When did you make it?” Will asks dryly.

“At night, when you were asleep.”

 _Ah, so that would explain the nightmares and the general uneasiness of the past few nights,_ Will thinks grimly to himself,  _and the increase in sleep waddling._

“I can’t believe you kept this hidden from me!” Will explodes.

“Please, Will,” Hannibal says in that "you’re being very unreasonable" tone of his that always succeeds in making Will feel simultaneously small and pissed off. “You make it sound as though I was harboring some sort of horrendous secret when in actuality I only wished to surprise you.”

“This is your big surprise for our mating anniversary, a home for our…” Will trails off, eyes widening. “Oh no, you didn’t.”

Hannibal’s back straightens proudly. “I certainly did.”

The black swan moves from his sitting position by balancing onto the tips of his webbed feet and shifting a little to the right. Underneath him sits a small, creamy, rounded egg.

_“Hannibal!”_

“Yes?” Hannibal says and Will knows on a deep instinctual level that he sees no wrong in this. That to Hannibal this is a normal thing to do. That if one wants a cygnet egg to just take one. Will doesn’t know why he’s so surprised given he mated a cannibalistic swan.  

“You can’t just take an egg!” Will whispers in a scandalised tone, self-conscious that their cygnet – no, not  _theirs,_  some other swan’s cygnet – is somehow listening through the shell.

“I do believe that I've proven that not only is that a possibility but a very easy course of action.”

_Smart ass._

Will winces, trying to get to the heart he knows is buried underneath all those feathers and blood lust. “Think of their poor parents.”

“Interesting,” Hannibal muses. “You don’t mind slaughtering and partaking on the flesh of your own kind but relieving a pen of an egg troubles you.”

“Relieving?!” Will splutters. “It’s not relieving, Hannibal! It’s  _stealing._  I’m surprised it doesn’t trouble you more considering how rude theft is.”

Hannibal narrows his eyes. “Believe me when I say the cygnet’s life will be infinitely more enjoyable with us.”

“You can’t know that for sure!” Will argues.

Hannibal crowds close to him, eyes blazing with an anger that hasn't been directed towards Will for a very long time.

“That is all true. I only know what my eyes saw and my other senses could tell me. I could smell the scent of death. The nest was one that has been occupied for many seasons. While exploring, I happened upon a patch of recently unearthed soil. Using my feet, I was able to unearth what had been hidden and found a cracked piece of shell. Deep I went, finding similar pieces, some more fragile and yellow with age than the others.”

“That doesn’t mean the parents killed them!” Will interrupts.

“If an attack occurred in their nest, why would the family feel the need to hide the evidence? Burial for a sense of closure, perhaps. Surely, if they were that troubled by the deaths of their cygnets then they would have relocated their nest to a safer location. No, they have been there for many seasons, the ground is well worn and trampled. One egg remained, sitting alone and vacant in the middle. No protective parents to guard it. If an attack occurred from an outside source, once again it would have been likely all the eggs would have been destroyed. Yet all were gone but one. With so much overwhelming evidence, it's safe to assume the inhabitants of that nest have taken to a particular act I find most distasteful. Cygneticide." Hannibal's eyes flutter to the egg. "I could not possibly leave her to suffer the same fate as her siblings.”

“Uh huh. So I’m just supposed to believe that this lone egg in this shitty living situation conveniently popped up right after you said you wanted to extend the family. Yeah, nice try but I’m not buying it.”

“I admit, I’ve had my eye on her for a while.”

“Her?” Will repeats.

“It’s a pen.”

Will scoffs. “How can you possibly know that? It’s too early to tell.”

“Call it fatherly instincts.”

Will sighs skyward. “Oh boy, you’re already attached. You’ll never take her back now.”

Hannibal smiles softly, his face gentler than it has ever been.

“What?” Will snaps.

“You said  _her.”_  Hannibal’s eyes have that dreamy quality again. The one they had on the rock when he was looking out across the pond, searching for a cygnet of their own. Damn it, Hannibal wants a cygnet bad and Will really doesn't want to take that joy away from him. Really, Will’s morality was shot to hell a long time ago. What’s one more bad deed?

“Alright, fine. We’ll keep her,” Will relents. “I’ll take your word for it that she would have died if we left her with her parents.”

Hannibal twines his neck with Will's in a show of gratitude and affection.

“Thank you, Will. For your trust and faith in me. I'm glad that you didn’t insist I take you to her place of birth. It’s not a nice place. Shadows lurk and pain.”

 

\----:----

 

Garret Jacob Hobbs returns to his nest only to find it empty. His feathery body is relatively clean except for the occasional eggshell that has lodged into his feathers from his earlier feeding. His heart lurches at the absence of his one remaining egg. Not just any egg. It was _the_  egg. The perfect one. The right colour and shape and size. The perfect temperature when he sat on it. He's been waiting so long, through countless clutches of eggs over many, many seasons for this one creation and it's gone. Garret wonders where his mate has disappeared too. He will ring her skinny neck when she comes back for letting this happen.

He tries to swallow down his hysteria. He has gone through so much, has killed so many for her and now she was just gone.  _Gone._

Garret bends his neck back and lets out an awful screeching hiss. It reverberates in his chest and echoes in the clearing, bouncing off the trees and bushes. It's the kind of loud, awful volume only a trumpeter swan could reach.

A rabbit darts out from the bushes, frightened by the noise. She moves for the trees, heading for safety. The rabbit feels her heart thumping fast in her tiny chest, an aura of  _hatred, revenge_ and _murder_ surrounding her. Someone’s going to pay and the rabbit hopes it isn’t her.

 

\----:----

 

Will still can’t believe this is happening. He and Hannibal are going to have a cygnet. It’s Will’s turn to sit and every time he shifts he’s reminded of the egg under him, smooth and warm with life inside. Everyday the life grows and grows and grows. Will’s both excited and downright terrified. The two conflicting emotions are making his heart hurt. He wonders if Hannibal is feeling the same. Will snorts. Hannibal won’t be worried. The black swan will be sure of himself. He’ll take to parenting like he took to water, naturally and with grace while Will will flounder about and hope he’s doing the right thing. Even now, Will is worried that he isn’t distributing his weight properly and that he’s somehow harming Abigail before she’s even hatched.

 _Cygnet,_  Will reminds himself.  _We haven’t decided on a name yet in case…_

Will really doesn’t want to finish that sentence.

The mute swan grumbles, wishing his mate would return with dinner already. He’s hungry and agitated; never a good combination with him. Will should have volunteered to go hunting instead and turned his nerves into aggression and his fidgeting wings into powerful weapons. A cold wind ruffles Will’s feathers and he shifts impossibly closer, wanting to keep the egg as warm as possible.

 _What if she doesn’t hatch?_  Will frets for the millionth time. It’s a very real possibility. Will may have done something wrong. Not kept her warm enough, not turned her right. The pen may have laid a dud and all this preparation and care has been for nothing. The thought sends a pang through Will.

 _No, don’t think like that,_  he scolds himself.  _We’ve done everything right. If she doesn’t hatch, it’s not our fault._

He and Hannibal have been taking equal turns keeping her warm. Okay, that’s a lie. Hannibal has taken most of the shifts. He's just so calm and good at it and he looks so at ease perched in their nest. Plus, he has this weird thing about the cygnet sensing Will’s stress and internalizing it herself. It's fine. Will has no problem with being on guard duty. He has always been more of the patroller out of the two and someone has to keep the pond and their egg safe from predators of the human and swan kind.

They've been at the sitting stage for a good while now. Spring has now bled into summer with warmer and sunnier days. If the egg is going to hatch then it will have to be soon.

A shake. Small but noticeable.

Will’s breath catches in his chest. He’s imagining things.

Another vibration, harder this time and panic fills him. When Will had thought soon, he hadn’t meant _right fucking now!_  Will’s eyes widen as he peers down, brain short circuiting.

Another shake, sharper this time.

Will moves backwards off the egg. He peers in amazement as the little rounded shell rocks again. Will holds his breath and hears faint scratching as the shell is chipped away from the inside. Suddenly, a little black beak pokes out. Next comes a little furred grey head and Will’s heart melts. All the fears, all the anxieties are gone. All that’s left is a warmth in his heart growing more and more until his entire body turns to liquid.

Abigail makes a little noise; a half huff, half squeak. Her head tilts to the side and she blinks up at him, so beautiful and tiny. A pen. Hannibal has been right all along. Will can’t bring himself to care about how much his mate will gloat later at the discovery. All he can focus on is those little eyes peering up at him.

“Hi,” Will says because it’s the first thing he thinks of.

She cheeps up at him and tries to move to her feet. She’s wobbly and stumbles. Will's wing shoots out of its own accord, instinctively steadying her.

“Remarkable, isn’t she?”

Will startles, whipping around with a low hiss before he realizes that no, it’s not an intruder, just his creepily silent mate with impeccable timing as per usual.

“How long have youbeen there?”

“Only a short while,” Hannibal looks just as enchanted as Will, eyes soft and face open. “It appears I was just in time for the hatching.”

“She’s lovely.”

“Indeed. What shall we call her?”

“Oh, erm.” Will looks away, awkwardly shuffling his feet. “I’ve already been calling her Abigail in my mind. I’d like to keep that name, if that’s okay.”

“Abigail,” Hannibal purrs. He announces it again, slower, as if tasting it. “A beautiful name. It means “my father’s joy,” I believe. What do you think, Will? Shall she bring us joy?”

Will doesn’t even have to think of his answer. He already knows it. “Yes.”

“Then I suppose it’s a fitting name.” Hannibal climbs into the nest, pressing his beak to Will’s own in a quick kiss before turning to their cygnet. He reaches out and gently brushes a wing down her side.

“So soft, like clouds if they were touchable.”

“Uh, so what now?” Will asks, although he’s not sure who to. Himself, Hannibal, Abigail. All seem reasonably plausible.

“Now we are her fathers.” Hannibal looks positively smitten with the thought. “I suppose we will take it one day at a time and learn as we go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if I got anything about baby or cygnet raising wrong. Let me know and I might be able to change it in the next chapter.


	2. And a Cygnet is Raised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry for the wait. I became obsessed with writing another kid fic so now I'm kind of juggling both at the same time. 
> 
> IMPORTANT: Um, lots of romanticizing about controversial topics (kidnapping, murder etc) in this chapter so pre-warning for that.

“I think she's ready to leave the nest,” Will ventures for the tenth time, watching Abigail furtively scramble at the vegetation walls that encase her. She gives up with a honk of irritation and collapses onto the ground with a huff.

“No, she's not. It’s much too soon,” comes Hannibal’s predictable response.

Will rolls his eyes. He always knew Hannibal would be a protective father but this is bordering on ridiculous.

“She’s been up and at ‘em for the past four days. We can barely keep her in the nest anymore. She’s curious. She wants to go exploring. We’ll follow right behind her. She’ll be fine.”

“My answer is still a resolute no, Will.”

“Come on, Hannibal,” Will nudges him with this beak. “She’s going to get stir crazy.”

As if in tune with him, Abigail lets out another honk. This one is louder and more aggravated than the last one. She then tackles the nest wall with double the vigour.

“We have made a lot of enemies on this pond,” Hannibal warns ominously.

“And you’re scared they'll try to hurt her for revenge,” Will finishes, long used to his spiel. “I know, but if this is the kind of life she’s going to live with us, trapped and hidden away, then she’s going to be miserable.”

Hannibal flutters his feathers in aggravation. “I can’t bear to watch her get hurt.”

“She won’t get hurt _.”_

“You can’t promise me that!” Hannibal hisses, his voice deep and low and so very angry. It’s the closest he’s ever gotten to raising his voice at Will and it’s enough to shock the mute swan into silence.

Even Abigail senses the seriousness of the situation and waddles closer to Will so she can curl under his wing and hide away from it all. Hannibal looks to the side, body stiff and rigid. He’s already assembling an apology, Will can see it on the tip of his beak.

“Hey, hey. None of that,” Will softly murmurs as he moves closer with Abigail in tow. “You don’t have to pretend with me. You’re hurt. It’s okay to snap. I won’t hold it against you.”

“I-”

Hannibal is trembling. Will can feel it when he presses close to his side.

“Who did you lose, Hannibal? To make you so scared?”

The black swan doesn’t reply and Will knows it’s not because he doesn’t want to but rather because he physically can’t. 

“We’ll wait a few more days. Then we let her out, agreed?”

“Agreed,” Hannibal repeats, though he sounds uncertain and his voice is small.

“She’ll be okay.” Will promises and Abigail squirms closer between them. “We’ll be okay.”

 

\----:----

 

When Abigail takes her first few steps outside of the nest, Will is positively vibrating with excitement. Hannibal, who is standing beside him, looks like he’s about to swoop someone.

“Tone it down. She can sense your anxiety,” Will whispers, nudging Hannibal with his wing.

“Perhaps it’s best if she’s alert. Danger could be lurking anywhere.” Hannibal’s head swivels as he says this. His neck twisting around so he can have a full three hundred and sixty degree view of potential threats.

Abigail takes another step forward, makes an excited little noise and flaps her little wings.

“She’s so precious. Look at those tiny wings! Aren’t they the cutest things?” Will gushes.

Hannibal stiffens and tersely replies, “Those wings will become one of her greatest weapons. It’s best that Abigail starts to view them as such and not, as you so eloquently put it, ‘cute things.’”

“Fear makes you an ass,” Will grouches though Abigail waddling over to a rock and giving it an experimental peck quickly lifts his mood.

“How right you are, Will. You should have seen me when you were off with those vile humans. I was ruthless.”

“Oh?” Will says, half distracted as he watches Abigail peck the rock again, harder this time. She scowls at the object that refuses to change no matter how hard she prods at it.

“So frustrated was I that I left my pond for brief periods of time in the hopes that it would lure some unsuspecting creature into its watery depths. Then I could have an excuse to destroy them. A brief distraction from the pain in my heart.”

“Golly, Hannibal.” Will sighs, words dripping with sarcasm. “How romantic of you.”

“Tease all you like. I know the thought of me leaving my pond, despondent without you, makes you preen.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know for a father worried about letting his cygnet out of the nest, you seem awfully bent on distracting me,” Will mutters absentmindedly, following Abigail as she dips a webbed foot into the shallow water at the very edge of the pond.

“You’re right. How hypocritical of me,” Hannibal says gravely, as though he has just committed a crime of the worst degree.

“I didn’t mean – fuck!” Will throws his wings up into the air in exasperation. “I’m not saying you’re doing anything wrong. I’m just making an observation. I think it’s good that you’re more relaxed now. That you trust me on this.”

“It’s difficult but I am trying.”

“That’s all I can ask for.”

Abigail splashes her webbed feet in the shallow end of the pond and chirps happily. Will lights up as a brilliant idea crosses his mind.

“Why don’t you take Abigail for a spin on the pond?” he asks Hannibal excitedly.

“A spin?”

Will smirks at Hannibal’s inability to understand his colloquialisms. “Just let her sit on your back. She’ll love it, trust me, all the cygnets do.”

Hannibal hesitates, looking worried again. “What if she falls off?”

Will ducks his head, beyond embarrassed that this emotional wreck is the same swan that once made him so terrified that he avoided water. “She’s a swan, Hannibal. She’ll _float.”_

Hannibal shifts from foot to foot.

“Go!” Will urges, gently nudging Hannibal with his head.

Hannibal stares at Will, eyes wide and pleading and lost. It’s such a shock to see. It’s almost as if their roles have been reversed. Hannibal had once coaxed Will through his own becoming, waddling with him through concepts of murder and cannibalism. Now it was Will’s turn to coax Hannibal through parenthood, to take him by the wing and lead him to the other side of all this uncertainty and fear.

“How about this? I’ll trail behind. If she falls off then I’ll be the first to see. I’ll catch her before she even hits the water,” Will proposes, quite pleased with himself.

Baby steps. That’s the way to go with new things. Although, it’s not like Hannibal had patiently guided Will through his own bloody becoming _._ He’d just thrown Will right into the thick of it with a God damn swan fight. _Bastard._

A few moments later, Hannibal is whizzing along the pond with Abigail excitedly cheering on his back and all bitter thoughts of the past are promptly forgotten in the joy of the present. Abigail’s head flits everywhere from the bank, to the pond, to the far-off trees. An overload of new and exciting senses. Will cruises behind the pair, feeling happy and whole.

 

\----:----

 

“Have you seen Hannibal and Will lately?” Alana gossips to the other swans. She hasn’t had the chance to have a clutch of her own this year. It has something to do with the lack of _alive_ cobs.

“Not really,” Louise Hobbs whispers softly. Her throat is sore and her movements are slow and delicate as though she's in pain.

“Those two are the worst!” Alana huffs with aggravation. “They think they own the entire park because the pond is theirs! No scruples whatsoever. I mean, had you ever heard of a swan eating another swan before them? It’s just barbaric!”

“Mmm,” Louise replies half-heartedly.

The truth is a part of Louise is envious of Will and Hannibal. She’s never seen a pair so in love before. They never failed to keep the romance alive, always rousing at one another, sleeping close, saddling up when it was chilly or scorching hot (Whatever the temperature, they were always touching). Louise fidgets, her feathers fluttering. She knows it’s rude to stare at others and watching a pair during their intimate moments is wrong, but she can’t help it. She must see them. She must remind herself that love is alive and existing and that it’s not just about the mating like it seems to be for Garret. That pair bonds are more than the biological drive to procreate constantly pushing swan couples together for yearly cygnet making. Her and Garret, what they have is convenient. What Will and Hannibal have, that's special.

“I can’t believe I wanted to mate with Will! It makes me just sick thinking about it!” Alana continues blabbering on, unaware that Louise isn’t listening. “To think that I could have been saddled with a blood thirsty monster!”

Sure, Hannibal and Will have issues, the killing of other swans a biggie, but Louise knows deep down that they will always be loyal to each other. That's more than Louise can say about her and Garret. _Are they really monsters?_ Louise always thought monsters couldn’t love. She’d always thought of monsters as her Garret. She shudders. If only these other swans knew what he does to their eggs. Louise would have left him long ago if she wasn’t so frightened that he would find her and kill her for it.

“And then, just when you think those two can’t get any worse, they become thieves of the worst kind! Bloody egg snatchers!” Alana seethes.

“Egg snatchers?” Franklyn asks, popping up from seemingly nowhere. He’s probably been listening for a while, waiting for an opening in the conversation.

“Didn’t you know?” Alana gasps loudly, voice low and scandalised. “Why, Hannibal and Will have a cygnet!”

“But that’s impossible! They’re both cobs!” Franklyn replies.

“Exactly! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell everybody! They stole an egg from a swan whose here,” Alana glances around the clearing, looking every swan in the eye. It’s almost as if she’s waiting for a grand interjection. _It was mine! My cygnet! You’ve got help me get them back!_

Instead, there’s only a vague murmur of discontentment.

Louise pipes up. “Wait, an egg?”

Her mind flashes back to their nest and her raving mate.

_“Something took her! It took her! How could you let it take her?!”_

She winces as she remembers Garret’s pinioning wings, the way they had smacked into her side.

_“Why? Why are you hurting me? You always kill them anyway? Why does this one matter?”_

_“Because she’s perfect! The perfect one!”_

Louise shakes her head. She doesn’t believe a word her mate says anymore. _“I won’t hurt you again. This is the last batch I’ll kill, I swear.”_ His promises are all empty.

Louise prays that it is her cygnet with the murder mates. One less death on her hands. One less cygnet to feel guilty about. A survivor. She smiles softly. She doesn’t think she’s ever had a survivor before. She’s tried to hide the eggs in the past but Garret always found them. He’d always find them.

“Is she happy?” Louise asks.

Alana does a double take. “I'm sorry, what?”

“Is she happy with them?” Louise repeats.

Alana looks conflicted. “Ah, well, she doesn’t look unhealthy but that doesn’t mean she’s happy _._ I bet she misses her parents. Her _real_ parents.”

Louise smiles, feeling happy and weightless.

“Do they take her for rides on the water?” Louise wonders, voice wistful.

“What?” Alana is beyond confused, not understanding this route of questioning at all.

“I always wanted to take my cygnets for a swim on my back.” An admission, one Louise has never made before out loud. It’s a dream she’s always kept close to her heart. “I hope they take her for rides.”

Alana’s eyes soften. “Oh, Louise, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up the subject of cygnets. I know how hard it is for you, always laying clutches but none of the eggs ever hatching. Keep hope. Next time will be different."

“Yes,” Louise promises, steel in her voice. “It will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Louise somehow turned into a Hannigram shipper. I don't know how but I have absolutely zero regrets.


	3. Into a Beautiful Pen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Abigail grows up fast. Like really fast.
> 
> NOTE: Abigail refers to Will as Dad and Hannibal as Father to differentiate between them.

Louise watches as the seasons pass and the leaves change colours. She watches the little pen (Abigail, they call her) grow. Her body becomes larger and lithe, her feathers turn white and lengthen, and her chest widens. She matures so gracefully. Louise notices a red spot on Abigail's beak one day when she ventures too close to the pond’s edge. It’s so similar to Louise’s own red spot that it makes tears spring to her eyes. _Oh, Abby._ Her beautiful little cygnet. Her lucky one. If Louise thought Hannibal and Will were a good pair before then she thinks they’re soul mates now. Careful, nurturing, patient. They raise Abigail as if they’ve raised countless clutches of cygnets. Just like Louise would have raised Abigail…minus the cannibalism, of course.

Louise wonders if Will and Hannibal are in similar awe of Abigail and her radiance. Created by her, nurtured by them. It feels like they’re all connected somehow and that by standing here and watching them, she’s somehow part of the family. A ghost in the wings; a presence that's invisible but hopefully felt. Sometimes, it feels like they do the same things as her at the same time. Sometimes, it feels like Louise shares their emotions. Like right now she can feel tension in the air, a storm brewing.

 _Confrontation_. She shifts uneasily. _With murder mates confrontation can be deadly._

 

\----:----

 

Will is fretting. He just doesn’t understand how Abigail grew up so fast! It’s like he blinked and a graceful long necked swan stood in place of what was once his fluffy grey balled Abby. It will only be a matter of weeks now until she's matured into a fully-grown female pen and moved out of the nest. That isn’t what has him so worried though. It’s the thought of trying to convince Hannibal of the fact that has him sweating.

“But Dad, I’m ready to go hunt,” Abigail whines.

Right, they have to get Hannibal to agree to family hunting first before they can even begin broaching the topic of Abigail becoming an adult pen and moving out.

 _Baby steps_ , Will reminds himself again. _Baby steps are important for overprotective cannibals._

“I know, Abby. I know you’re ready,” Will consoles her, patting her side with his wing.

Abigail huffs. “I’ve been ready for aaaages.” 

Will shakes his head to himself with a chuckle. He had once been so anxious at the thought of what Abigail would do when she found out just what her dotting parents had been feeding her. Rejection and abandonment seemed the most likely reactions. Instead, when Abigail had stumbled across Hannibal hacking at the carcass of a cob for the best choice cuts, she lit up like star and asked, “When’s it my turn to get dinner?” She had kept asking that same question for the proceeding five months with the annoying persistency only a cygnet would be capable of and it was driving Will nuts.

“Tell him! Tell Father I’m ready to hunt!” Abigail demands, her beak forming into a cute pout.

Will gives her a stern look. “Now acting childish isn’t the way to convince your father you’re a mature pen. You have to be assertive but remain rational and calm. Remember that at the first sign of rudeness he’ll shut down and you’ll lose your chance. Quick!” Will urges her. “Here he comes!”

Sure enough, Hannibal glides over a moment later having just finished his daily swim. He exits the pond and saunters over, his movements just as smooth on land as they had been in the water which isn’t really fair considering he should be awkwardly waddling about like the rest of his kind who struggle balancing their bodies on their thin legs. Trust Hannibal to make walking around look graceful. 

“Father,” Abigail says softly and sweetly.

“Yes?”

“Can I come with you and Dad on the hunt tonight? I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Hannibal pauses, noting Will’s proximity with their daughter. He’s standing close enough that his feather’s touch hers. _On her side, always on her side._  His eyes darken with fury.

Hannibal bends his neck closer and speaks gently, “Abigail, what Will and I do together is very dangerous. It’s not safe for a swanling such as yourself.”

“I’m not a swanling anymore though! I’m almost an adult pen now. I fly and fish and explore around the bushes.”

“You have been exploring around the other swan’s territory?” Hannibal looks alarmed at this and his words come out in a hiss.

“Dad said-”

Hannibal’s head swivels in Will’s direction. “You condoned this risky behaviour?”

Will blinks rapidly, surprised at how quickly this calm family talk has escalated into the blame game. Then again, he always knew convincing Hannibal that his darling daughter has grown up wasn’t going to be easy.

Will sighs, “Okay, firstly, it was _one_ time while you were off collecting flowers. Secondly, I was nearish and thirdly, I was really tired and it’s not like Abigail can’t defend herself after all the training she’s been getting from us.”

“I can’t believe this,” Hannibal says faintly. “You put our daughter in harm's way because you prioritized your own personal comfort over her safety. How could you be so selfish?”

“I let our daughter – our fully grown, nearly adult daughter – make her own decisions about her life. Yes, I’m guilty of that,” Will snaps. “What are you going to do about it, huh? It’s in the past. It can’t be undone.”

Hannibal looks like he’d very much like to undo Will. He takes a weighted step closer, his body language tense and threatening.

“Oh, so your solution is violence. Figures,” Will sneers, fluffing out his feather’s aggressively. “Well bring it on, old cob. I beat you in a fight once and I sure as hell can do it again.”

“Stop! Just stop it!" Abigail sobs. "I don’t want this! I don’t want you two to fight over me! I just want to hunt with my parents! I just want to be a part of that family thing. Why won’t you let me be a part of it?! Am I not good enough?!” She directs this at Hannibal and then takes off with a cry.

Will and Hannibal stare after her. The fury quickly evaporates from them and guilt settles in instead.

“Should I-?”

“No, Hannibal. Let her go. She needs a moment.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know,” Will replies gently. “But remember what I said earlier? That if you smother her too much, you’ll lose her? That’s what’s happening right now.”

“I can't bear to lose another, Will. I really can't. The last time almost destroyed me.” Hannibal, for the first time Will's known him, looks genuinely frightened. It's in his eyes, a kind of hopeless desperation.

Will swallows down the pain he experiences just seeing Hannibal like this. He desperately wants to know more about Hannibal's mysterious past and this other swan he lost but is too frightened of causing his distraught mate even more pain by prying.

"Will," Hannibal's voice is tight. "Tell me we are not too late."

Will bites back his morbid curiosity and shelves it for another day. He has a mate to console.

“Everything's going to be fine. We can fix this by letting her come hunting with us. Don't give me that worried look, she'll be okay. We’ll be there, watching over her and keeping her safe.”

 

\----:----

 

It turns out that Abigail doesn’t need much looking after. She takes the reins, stalking into the clearing of a cob who is nearly double her size. Hannibal’s back instantly straightens as his protective instincts fire up. He starts after her, but Will stops him by holding him back with his right wing.

“Wait, give her a moment.”

And so they wait, concealed in the underbrush as they watch Abigail flirt with their dinner.

Hannibal’s neck twitches as he watches the cob bow his head. He furthers his transgressions when he trails his inferior feathers along Abigail's side. A low hiss emanates from Hannibal.

“Patience,” Will whispers.

A moment later, Abigail flies up and lands hard on the cob’s lowered neck.

He lets out a squeak, his bottom half flailing around, trying to dislodge the pen cutting off his air supply with her whole body. As the minutes tick by, the cob becomes weaker and weaker and eventually stills.

Will turns to Hannibal with a smug “I told you so” perched on the tip of his beak but is floored by Hannibal’s teary eyes and the awestruck expression on his face.

“Are you seriously crying right now?”

“I am so proud,” Hannibal whispers reverently. “Look at her, Will. Our own perfect creation. With your intellect and my charm, she will be an unstoppable force.”

Will doesn’t even try to argue with Hannibal. It may have something do with the blush burning underneath his feathers.

Abigail triumphantly sits up, no longer crouching over her victim. Her beak is bloody as she’s pecked her way under his feathers.

“I told you that I was ready. How’d I do?”

A tear falls, clinging to Hannibal’s feathery face like a dew drop clings to a leaf. “You were magnificent, Abigail. You moved with such grace and poise. It’s a rare thing indeed to witness something so beautiful.”

Will can’t help but agree. Abigail’s feathers are drenched in blood, her big blue eyes are bright and lively and her entire being radiates happiness. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Will sniffles. Damn it, now he’s getting choked up too. _Thanks a lot, Hannibal._

 

\----:----

 

Abigail officially moves out of the nest...and across the pond. Months pass like this. Most other swan pairs would have chased off their offspring at around the six-month mark but, well, Will and Hannibal have always been a little unorthodox and they don’t mind sharing their territory. Besides, Hannibal considers it important that Abigail becomes used to living around the pond by herself and by dedicating her a side of their property, she can do just that. Hannibal calls it “preparing the pond's next sole caretaker”. Will calls that bullshit. It’s obvious Hannibal just wants Abigail close.  

It’s kind of funny, actually. You’d think that now Abigail is an adult pen and has moved out that Hannibal would stop being such an overprotective parent. You’d think that but you’d be wrong.

“Hey Father,” Abigail quacks with curiosity. “Who’s that?”

Hannibal is instantly alert, lowering his beak and entire body into an aggressive pose. “Who is who?”

Will fondly rolls his eyes. “Don’t mess with your father like that, Abigail. You know how he gets.”

“I’m not yanking his tail! Look, there’s a pen hiding behind that rock over there and she’s watching us.”

Will glances over and sure enough, there is the familiar intruder. Small, lithe and a little on the too thin side.

 

\----:----

 

Louise chokes out a sob. It comes out sounding like a high, mournful, tinkling sound. She’s been feeling emotional since last night. This is it. This is the last time she would see Abigail. She’s leaving for good. This park is too full of painful memories and cygnets lost. Garret would be well into his lunch of worms marinated in Yew berries by now. She imagines his stomach bloating painfully, his heart slowing with the poison. Louise hopes that in his final moments he feels remorse for the lives of their cygnets he took but that feels like too much of a stretch and she’d stopped believing in miracles long ago.

It feels like it would always come to this. Louise remembers when Garret had first seen Abigail a few suns ago. He had come rushing through the bush, screeching at the top of his lungs that he was going to kill them, “Kill those fucking cob bastards".

He was going to kill Hannibal and Will. He was going to take away Abigail’s happiness because he was selfish. He wanted to own her more than he wanted her to be happy.

 _No._ Louise had said to herself. _No more_.

So the idea of the Yew berries had formed. She'd crushed the plants poisonous seeds into a powder and mixed them with the berries sweet juices to create a deadly sauce. She had then coated the worms in it and left them at Garret’s feet. Her mate, greedy to a fault, couldn’t resist. He had glut himself on the worms, just has he had glut himself on their cygnets. A fitting end, indeed, that he died by the weapon he had sinned with.

Louise supposes that this puts her on the same level as the murder mates. A killer of swans. It doesn’t bother her all that much. She’s always liked Hannibal and Will and there’s something so empowering about being a murderess of a mother. It has something to do with the comforting deep seated knowledge that no swan can ever hurt her or her cygnets again. Louise can feel the clutch of eggs inside her now, heavy and full with so much life and potential. She will raise them. They will be as beautiful as her Abigail and just as deadly too. 

Louise sighs at the thought of her daughter who is coincidentally staring in her direction. How sweet. She can pretend in these final moments that Abigail finally sees her, knows her to be her biological mother and maybe even loves her a little. Perhaps she isn’t imagining things because now Hannibal and Will are also looking this way and Abigail is raising her wing, almost as she if she’s pointing and – _oh,_ oh no!

Louise squawks in a panic. She can’t die, not now, not after everything she’s been through to get to this point. And she may die too, because though she feels like Will, Hannibal and Abigail are  _her_ family, she knows she isn’t _their_ family.  She’s a stranger, a threat to them, and she’s seen what Hannibal and Will do to strangers and threats. 

Louise beats her wings so fast that they thud in time with her pounding heart. Everything’s so loud that she can’t even hear her own last whispered goodbye as she takes off.  

 

\----:----

 

Will smirks as the pen stumbles backwards after realizing she’s been noticed. She quickly turns around to flee.

Not quick enough though for Abigail points out with an eager wing. “Hey look! She’s got a little bit of red on her beak like me!”

Hannibal’s world drains of colour. He has predicted this event in the way he predicts most best-case and worst-case scenarios. That doesn’t mean he’s prepared by any means.  

“Abigail,” Hannibal says cautiously. “Why not have a dip in the pond? It’s a beautiful day.”

Abigail bounds off for the water and Hannibal watches her careless joy with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 _Was that Abigail’s mother? What do they say? Should they tell Abigail the truth? How they snatched her from another pair’s nest?_ Hannibal knows in matters such as these it is best to lie but will Will allow that? If not, they may lose their daughter to hatred forever.

Will looks completely collected without a feather out of place. He is, after all, the more laid-back parent out of the two of them. If a cob so much as breathed near Abigail, Hannibal would swoop him while Will would just chuckle about it being easier to lure in dinner. Hannibal has to admit that he can be a tad overly protective at times, especially during mating season when he follows Abigail around like a shadow. In Hannibal’s defense, he has to be alert for unworthy cobs trying to get with his darling daughter and create – he shudders at the mere thought – inferior cygnets to carry on their legacy. 

Still, Will is unnaturally calm for a parent faced with such a life changing decision. To speak of Abigail’s biological parents or not. Too calm, in fact. If Hannibal didn't know any better, he’d say Will looks smug.

“Care to share?” Hannibal inquires and though his tone is soft, there is steel in his voice.

“Huh?”

Hannibal narrows his eyes, not buying for one second Will’s innocent act.

“Do you know who she is?” Hannibal gestures in the direction of the retreating pen.

“Why, that’s Abigail’s mother,” Will answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Every muscle in Hannibal’s body tenses until he's unnaturally still. His mind shifts through Will’s previous answers and draws the only logical conclusion.

“You don’t,” Hannibal says slowly, testing the words, “seem particularly surprised by her presence.”

Will has the audacity to look offended. “Well, thank God for that! She’s been lurking ‘round the pond for the past year watching our Abby grow up. I’d be a lousy patroller if I didn’t notice her.”

Hannibal hisses lowly at that because _what exactly is Will inferring?_

Will winces. "I’m sorry, that came out wrong. You had bigger things to worry about like fussing after Abigail. You didn’t have time to notice any lurking strangers who weren’t of the cob variety.” 

“And you never thought that it would be wise to speak with me about any of this?” Hannibal retorts stiffly.

A sudden visual image of taking Will by the neck and drowning him in the pond comes to mind but Hannibal quickly dispels it. It will give him only momentary relief and cause him a lifetime of pain. That doesn’t mean he couldn’t hurt Will through other less physical means though.

“I am afraid I've been mistaken in thinking we are a team, Will,” Hannibal hisses out. His words loaded with venom.

Will sighs. “Come on, Hannibal. Don’t be like that. I didn’t want to worry you.”

Hannibal makes a noncommittal noise and turns away from his mate.

“You know I’m right. You worry too much about things like this.”

“Things concerning Abigail, I presume you mean? I thought it was natural for a parent to feel concerned about the well-being of their daughter. Forgive me, it appears I have misunderstood parenting.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I know it was wrong of me to keep this from you. Consider us even. You kept the kidnapping Abigail thing from me and I kept Louise stalking our family from you. Even Steven.”

Hannibal sniffs. “Those are remarkably different things, Will. One action does not place our cygnet in harms way and the other does.”

“Oh, Louise is harmless! I wouldn’t have let her near Abigail otherwise. You can’t blame her for wanting to be close to the daughter you stole. My conscience damn well liked the idea. It was going through hell after the stunt you pulled.”

Hannibal softens slightly at this and slowly turns back around to face Will.

“Come on, Hannibal. Let’s start over.”

“No more deception, secret harboring or lies and that includes lies of omission,” Hannibal clearly states his nonnegotiable terms.

Will’s eyes dart away. “Before I agree, you should probably know that there’s one more thing that I’ve kind of been keeping from you…”

_“Will!”_

“It’s a good thing, I promise!”

“I will be the judge of that,” Hannibal retorts sharply.

Will leads his mate towards the pond's reeds with gentle nudges of his beak. Hannibal follows Will though he remains unresponsive to the warm affection.

Will fidgets anxiously. “Well, you know how Abigail is all grown up now and our nest is so empty.” 

“Yes,” Hannibal says icily. 

“I thought it would be nice if…we…um…did it again.”

“Did what again?”

But Will doesn’t have to explain because before them is a newly made nest and inside, covered in leaves for warmth, is a single creamy egg.

“Oh, Will,” Hannibal murmurs as all the anger melts from him. “He’s beautiful.”

Will doesn’t bother questioning the _he._ He knows better than doubting Hannibal’s so called “fatherly instincts”.  

“Where did he come from?”

"An abandoned nest." Will's eyes flash darkly and Hannibal knows there's more to the story but Will just shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters now is that he’s safe and he's ours.”

Hannibal hums and moves closer to Will, twining their necks together and affectionately rubbing his beak against Will’s own. Will reciprocates with a soft sound, glad to have been so easily forgiven.

“Ugh, gross. Go be lovey dovey somewhere else.” Abigail complains from behind them though there's a warmth in her voice that indicates she's teasing. “Hey, what's that?”

Will grins. “This is your new brother. Come and say hello.”

“Whoa, cool! I’ve always wanted a sibling.”

Droplets of water drip from Abigail’s wet feathers as she moves into the nest to get a closer look. Hannibal instantly begins his fretting, softly scolding her for getting the nest wet when it should be kept dry and warm for the cygnet. Abigail juts out her beak defiantly and Will can’t help but dissolve into laughter at the pinched expression that appears on Hannibal’s face at such blatant disrespect.

 _My family,_ Will thinks fondly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we come full circle.
> 
> Special thanks to PrincetteMareep because though I always planned to have Louise kill Garret, I hadn't thought of her waiting until she's pregnant to kill Garret and therefore be able to start her own family. Good idea, PrincetteMareep!


End file.
